


for a moment, we were infinite

by prettytothinkso



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angel Liam, Angst, Death, Ghost Harry, Ghost Niall, Harry Centric, Hurt Louis, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Sad Louis, Suicide, Zouis best friends, a ton of feelings, mentions of abuse, nothing graphic though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7801171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettytothinkso/pseuds/prettytothinkso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world pulsated around him, gentle waves rocking him back and forth on his feet as sweaty bodies danced around him. Harry's mind reeled, the lights were too bright, the music too loud. The floor seemed to vibrate with the beat. </p><p>Suddenly he was pulled outside, cold night air slapping him sober before a fierce glare bore into him. The anger radiated off the man in waves but Harry was too drunk to register anything at this point. </p><p>The next thing he knew, he was trapped in a coffin with no memory of how he got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I lay alone in dank soil

It was a really weird sensation, being dead that is. Harry blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to get accustomed to the sudden darkness encompassing him. He seemed to be enclosed in a small space. Pushing his hands out to the side, his heart skipped when they met firm mahoghany wood on both sides. 

 

 

Coffin. He was in a coffin.

One reach to the top confirmed his suspicions. Weirdly though, he didn't seem too bothered by the limited supply of oxygen or moving space. Harry placed the palm of one hand flat against the top of the coffin and pushed, muscles straining. He knew it was stupid, everyone knew coffins were impossible to get out of--

And then he was out. Harry actually fell over from the sudden burst of sunlight. He clenched his eyes shut but he could feel the tears burning behind his eyelids. His skin seemed to sizzle under the harsh rays, feeling as though entire flakes were peeling off. Harry cranked his eyes open a miniscule bit just to duck underneath a huge oak tree. 

A few minutes later, he was able to open his eyes fully and his body didn't feel like it was on fire anymore. Surveying his surroundings, he wasn't surprised to find himself in the middle of a graveyard. Given the intensity of the sun, it was probably around noon and the cemetery was deserted. Squinting, Harry's eyes sought out a specific gravestone and took in the engraved words:

Harry Styles

1994-2017

Beloved son, brother and friend

Always.

Okay. So he really was dead. It was funny though, Harry stared at his hands. They looked exactly the same. Still huge, awkward and clunky. He didn't feel dead. Stretching his legs out, he felt his muscles tense up before relaxing. He wasn't that sore though so he probably wasn't in that coffin for long. 

Speaking of the coffin, how exactly did he manage to get out? The ground beneath his gravestone looked unperturbed, the soil even and glistening with a thin layer of runoff rainwater. Frowning slightly, he reached a hand out and placed it against the bark of the tree trunk. His palm sat there for a moment, the wood cooling to the touch. But then his fingers started sinking in, disappearing as the wood seemed to liquefy beneath his touch. Gaping, he continued pushing his arm in, until he was up to his shoulder, his entire arm buried inside the tree. Flailing a bit, he could see his fingers sticking out on the other side. 

_What?_ This is impossible. 

Slowly, he began to push the rest of his body through the bark, sinking until all that was left was his right shoulder and leg. Throwing himself a bit further, he popped out the other side with a wet smacking sound, the bark immediately hardening again. 

Breathe, Harry instructed himself. You're fine. You can just pass through things, it's fine. 

The sound of dead leaves crinkling under someone's shoes sent his head turning. A man donned in a black jacket and skinny jeans approached his gravestone. Harry squinted, trying to get past the sunlight to look at the man's face.

He seemed to be in his early twenties, with a toned and extremely fit body. Kneeling, the man rested his knee softly against the marble gravestone and brought a hand up to the words. His lips moved silently as he traced the fourth line with his finger. 

_Always._

But what did it mean? Who was that guy? 

Before Harry could run forward, demanding answers from that mysterious guy, pain ripped through his body, shredding his chest in the process. It burned a red hot fire, scalding the insides of his veins until Harry was shuddering on the ground, curled up in a fetal position. It took a few more minutes before the aftershocks stopped raking through him. 

What the bloody hell was that?

Harry stood up shakily, steadying himself with one hand on the tree. The man had gone. Without thinking, Harry ran back out to his gravestone, eyes widening at the white orchid that now leaned against his grave. 

It must have been him, he contemplated. Do I know him though? 

A warm breeze flew by and the petals of the orchid trembled before one peeled off and fell onto the cold marble. Harry picked it up, rolling it back and forth between the pads of his fingers. It was a dying flower, he murmured to himself. Why would he do that, give me a flower that wouldn't last long anyway?

The sun tingled against his skin, unpleasant but not unbearable now. Harry squinted up at the clear sky, a cerulean canvas that spanned to infinity. 

_Follow him._

The voice of the command was soft, like the murmuring of a meandering brook. It brushed over him like a soft curtain, pushing him to follow. 

Harry knew which direction the man went in. It felt instinctual, to choose a path and trust his gut to take him there. 

Plus, what do I have to lose? He told himself. So far, he's the only one who might have answers.

Brushing the dirt from his pants, Harry stood up and chose the path he saw first.

* * *

After walking for several hours, Harry learned three things.

One, he used to live around here. Each building felt familiar to him, bringing on a faint tug at his heartstrings. Once he lay eyes on something, he could name it immediately. And yet--

Two, he didn't have most of his memories. He knew when he passed by Bryant's Park, a place that he could _feel_ he frequented as a child yet he couldn't pull up any memories on the fields or swings. 

And finally, three, and perhaps the most important; no one else could see him. For the first hour, he tried to make eye contact with everyone on the street, hoping someone would jog his memory and give him some goddamn answers already. But everyone appeared to look right through him, their gazes always faraway and unobservant. Once, Harry tried to grab someone's arm but he immediately felt a faint pulling where he made contact with the person and soon, he was on the other side of the person, who probably only felt a small chill throughout the entire process.

Only hours later though, did he find the man he had seen in the graveyard. Harry caught him when he was entering the subway station at Lexington Ave, 59th Street. He had immediately recognized the black jacket and skin tight jeans. Running to catch up to the man and his long legs, Harry was not proud to say he had run through a couple of people. 

It turned out to be useless though. The man simply sat down on one of the wooden benches and crossed his legs. He seemed content to watch the trains arrive and depart one by one. Harry watched him from afar as the man let the N train leave, the Q, the R. 

A while later, the man pulled out a cigarette and placed it softly between his lips. 

Harry grimaced. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he hated smokers. They were selfish, especially if they did it in public. Second-hand smoking actually did turn out to be a problem for many and everything could be blamed on these rebels who needed to smoke to look "cool."

The man never lit the cigarette though, which confused Harry. After a few hours of spying, Harry's legs were almost crumpling with exhaustion and there was no one else at the station. 

"You can come out now," a voice said smoothly. 

Harry blinked, instantly alert. "Me?" He asked out of habit.

"You," the man confirmed. He turned around and that was the first time Harry saw his face full frontal. The man had exotic eyes, two pools of a dark bottomless brown outlined by the curve of long lashes. His cheekbones were high, hollowing out his cheeks to create a serious, mature look on him. And oh god, his lips. They were luscious, framed perfectly and almost glistening under the lighting of the subway. 

The man continued to stare at Harry, silence filling the station awkwardly.

Finally, Harry broke out of his trance. "W-wait. You can see me?"

The man nodded. "Hear you as well."

"Really?" Harry couldn't help but break out into a broad grin. "You're the first person I found today that could."

The man didn't reply, simply shrugging as he continued to stare down at the subway tracks. He didn't seem surprised, which bothered Harry a little bit. Who was he exactly?

Harry was never one for awkward silences. "Do we know each other?"

The man's lips tilted slightly upwards into a small smile. "I don't think so."

Harry frowned. "Did you visit a graveyard today?"

He looked at Harry, puzzled. "How did you know that?"

"Erhm, I saw you in front of my gravestone and you left a white orchid so I assumed that we, you know."

The man laughed. "I'm sorry. I do that sometimes. Whenever I'm kinda stressed I'll go to a graveyard and place flowers for the graves that seem like they haven't been visited in a while. It helps me, in a weird way."

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that. 

"We really don't know each other then. In that case," Harry thrust a hand out. "I'm Harry!"

The man's eyes sparkled. "I'm Zayn."

* * *

Zayn was an enigma to Harry. He invited Harry to follow him without a second thought and didn't seem ashamed at all when he let Harry into his apartment.

The place was a complete mess, with comic books and sketchbooks strewn across the table tops. Dirty clothes hung on every chair, the scent barely covered up with a quick Febreeze job. 

"Make yourself at home," Zayn yawned as he threw his keys onto a random table. "I have nothing for you to steal anyway."

I couldn't even if I wanted to, Harry wanted to say. He reached out sadly to graze a lamp sadly. His hand shot through like usual and emerged on the other side of the lampshade. Am I touching the bulb right now? Harry wondered. And indeed he was. He was completely numb to it though. He didn't feel the soft warmth that usually radiated from lightbulbs. Come to think of it, the only sensation he really had the entire day was the pain he felt back at the graveyard. 

And he'd rather not experience that again.

"Why aren't you scared of me?" Harry blurted out suddenly.

Zayn tugged his head out of his comic book. "Why should I be scared?" His voice was tinted with a bit of amusement.

"No one else can see me and you visited my grave so I'm most likely a ghost. I can't touch anything, I can pass through you. Why aren't you scared?"

"You aren't some supernatural though," Zayn said, closing his book. "You're just a petty human like the rest of us."

Harry wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. 

"But hotter?" Harry tried.

Zayn laughed, full and deep for the first time that day. "But hotter," he repeated. 

Harry smiled back. He still didn't know why he was dead or how he ended up in this position but this was hardly the worst situation he could've put himself in. Zayn seemed nice enough, kind enough to take him in but still young enough to joke around with him. 

Plus, you know, he was an extremely attractive lad. 

 

 

 

"Z, you little fucker, why didn't you answer my text?" A voice interrupted, the sound making its way to them before the door even opened. 

Zayn seemed unperturbed, leaning horizontally on the couch while chewing slowly on some chicken pieces. 

A loud jangle was heard through the door and someone cursed lowly. 

"Help me, goddamnit!" 

"Uh, Zayn?" Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Should we...you know--"

"He'll figure it out," Zayn rolled his eyes. "'s been doing it for almost three years now." 

The door finally slammed open and a bag of groceries was suddenly upended on the carpet, fruit and vegetables rolling into their piles of dirty clothes. A feather headed boy burst in, eyes an electric blue and sparking in anger. His face was shaped daintily too, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, giving him a delicate look.

Yeah, he was hot as fuck.

"Why didn't you help me?" The boy demanded angrily. 

Zayn looked at his carpet in dismay, mouth hanging open. "You spilled the entire jar of Nutella on the carpet." 

"Not my fault, not cleaning it up," he plopped onto the sofa next to Zayn, automatically taking the plate of chicken and popping a piece into his mouth. 

"So anyway, today at work, you know that bitch Mrs. Stewart? Oh god, she came in today--" 

Maybe it was instinct, or he just wasn't used to being dead--Harry cleared his throat. 

Two heads turned to look at him. Two. 

The boy blinked at Harry, eyes widening in surprise and--Harry faltered. Fear. The boy was terrified of him. 

Before Harry could wonder why though, his attention was captivated by two other boys currently standing in the doorway.

A muscular boy clucked his tongue and crossed his arms disapprovingly. "Louis, what did I tell you--"

The blonde next to him laughed, cutting him off. "Come off it Liam, I've never gotten to eat Nutella off the carpet before." 

"The carpet's disgusting, don't you  _dare_ \--" the brunette dove towards the blonde who was trying to shove a fingertip dripping in chocolate into his mouth. 

"Niall--" The feather haired boy whimpered, turning all attention to him. He curled up into himself, a complete turnaround from the boisterous personality Harry had witnessed meer seconds ago. 

"Holy fuck," the blonde--Niall's--eyes widened as he finally noticed Harry. "Are you...there's no way."

Zayn had an utterly confused look on his face. He turned to his friend, obviously not used to how the feather haired boy was acting. "Louis?" He asked, voice tentative. "Mate, are you okay?"

The boy named Louis blinked rapidly, keeping his gaze confined to the ground. "Y-yeah, I'm just, uh. Freaked out, you know? I mean, yeah." 

The muscular brunette finally broke out of his trance in the doorway and strode over to Harry. "Hello, I'm Liam," he said curtly, extending an arm.

Harry was about to shake it when he realized his current predicament. "I actually can't, um--"

Liam rolled his eyes and grasped Harry's hand in his own. Their fingers wrapped tightly together. Harry gaped. "T-then, you too--"

"Mind if I explain outside?" Liam pressed his lips together and smiled, the gesture obviously forced.

The feather haired boy-Louis-whimpered and cowered slightly when Harry's gaze washed over to him.

"Out we go!" The blonde cheered, rushing Liam and Harry out the door. The hand rested firmly on his back, pushing Harry until he was out in the hall. The door slammed shut even before Harry could turn around.

 

"All of you can see me," Harry said, still trying to take in what happened. 

Liam seemed to relax considerably now that they were out of the apartment. "Yes."

"And for some reason, I can touch you and the blonde--Niall."

He nodded. "Right."

"Why? Who are you?" Harry couldn't keep the questions in anymore. He spent the entire day wandering around as a ghost and now suddenly he found people who could all see him. He needed answers now. "Why is that boy so scared of me?"

Liam held a hand up. "Okay, slow down. I know you're freaked out right now--"

"I'm fucking dead! Of course I'm freaked--"

"--but you need to calm down," Liam ignored him.

Harry put on the most glaring look he could muster and huffed. After a few minutes of controlled breathing, he grumbled: "Alright, I'm calm."

"Let's take it one question at a time," Liam said. "What do you want to know most?"

"Who are you? How come I can only touch you and the blonde?" Harry bit his tongue to keep himself from rambling.

LIam smiled faintly before answering. "I'm an Angel. And Niall--that's the blonde--he's another ghost."

Harry gaped. He didn't think he would meet other ghosts, much less an Angel! "You, you're really--"

"An Angel, yes," Liam seemed a bit bored with the clarification. "Not a fallen one though. Like I didn't get kicked out or anything, I chose to leave--" He cut off like he realized he was revealing too much and pressed his lips shut. "Anything else you want to know?"

Harry decided not to press the subject. "How long have I been dead? _Why_ am I dead?"

Liam took on a grave look. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I can't answer that."

Harry's chest was weighed down with a sudden feeling of despair. He had been running on adrenaline ever since he found people who could see and hear him. They would give him answers, they would fix his condition. He didn't know how but they would at least shed some insight on his death! But not even this boy, this Angel, knew how he died. 

"I'm fucking dead," Harry hissed lowly, tears prickling at his eyes. "You said you were an Angel! Help me, goddamn it!"

His face softened and he looked almost apologetic. "I really can't. I'm sorry." 

"But I am dead," Harry said.

Liam nodded. "Yes, that I can confirm."

Suddenly, Niall's head poked through into the hallway. "You guys are welcome to come back in now." 

Liam nodded and stood up, brushing his pants off. "Come on, let's introduce you to the others."

Harry followed him back into the apartment to find the other boys arranged in a circle waiting for him. Feather boy wasn't cowering anymore, though he still avoided Harry's gaze. Zayn had gone back to his calm demeanor.

"Let's do introductions!" Niall chirped, eerily cheery for such a weird situation. "I'll start. I'm Niall," he said, smiling right at Harry. "I'm another fellow ghost, like I'm sure Liam told you. Been dead for about two years now--"

"I'm Liam," he cut in, clearing his throat. "'m an Angel." He sat down, indicating that was all he was going to say.

"Okay, um," Zayn looked around awkwardly before realizing he really was only doing this for Harry. "I'm Zayn. And this is useless since everyone here already knows me," he grumbled and sank back into the couch.

Finally, all eyes landed onto the feather haired boy. Harry was wary, unsure of how he would react. 

"I'm Louis," the voice that came out was neither shaky nor tremulous. It even held a hint of the sassy personality he had displayed when he first walked through the door. "I'm Zayn's best friend and roommate. I'm actually _not_ dead and erhm." He looked straight at Harry, electric blue eyes sparking. "I'm your ex-boyfriend." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO IT BEGINS. tell me what you think :)   
> title is a part of a quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky 
> 
> it's a great book, you should all read it


	2. what is his story?

Harry gaped at him. "W-We used to...?"

Louis shrugged, the gesture tinged with a bit of nonchalance. "That's why I was a bit taken aback when I first saw you here."

Doubt lingered in Harry's mind. Louis didn't look surprised, his eyes had definitely screamed _fear_ the second they landed on Harry. What had happened between the two of them for him to react that way? Harry filed the thought away for now. "How long did we date?" Harry asked carefully.

There was a pause.

"About two years. We broke up a bit before you erhm, died."

"Harry," Liam said softly. "Do you remember any of this?"

Four heads looked at him expectantly.

"I-" he took a few deep breaths. "Sorry, but no. None of this."

"Hey, it's alright," Niall smiled warmly at him, though his voice still held a bit of cheer. "Everyone's confused when they first wake up dead. Or well, undead. But at least we're not like zombies or anything, we're not rotting-"

"Alright Niall," Louis rolled his eyes, causing the blonde to pout slightly before slumping backwards.

"Um," Harry began tentatively. "Did I know the rest of you as well?"

"Louis and I are roommates. He talked about you a lot I guess, but for some reason, we never formally met," Zayn said. "That's why I didn't recognize you back at the subway station."

"Wait, so you just bumped into a stranger and decided to bring him home?" Louis frowned and turned to Zayn. "I don't know how I feel about that mate."

"You brought Niall and me home and you didn't know us at all," Liam reminded him. "We've been here for almost a year now."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "So Niall's another ghost, Liam's an angel, and you just bumped into each other and decided to live together?"

"It's a long story," Zayn sighed, running a hand through his head. "Let's just leave it for now, yeah?"

Louis seemed to let out a breath of relief at that.

Harry decided to press other matters. "Liam, um, since you're an Angel, maybe you could--what exactly am I right now?"

Liam must have taken sympathy at the lost look on his face. "Alright, simply put, right now you're a ghost. A spirit. A soul. Your body's back in your grave rotting away."

"But why am I here?" Harry questioned.

"You must have heard that people who died without closure end up as wandering ghosts, trying to finish what they couldn't when they were alive," Liam said. "I'm guessing that's why you're here. There's something that you left unfinished."

Louis shifted. "So is he going to stay here forever now? Like you and Niall?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Liam shrugged. "Heaven doesn't tell me a lot of things. Probably, he'll disappear once he finishes whatever he came here to do."

Harry had so many more questions burning through him. How was he supposed to finish whatever it was he had to do if he didn't have any of his memories? Why are Niall and Liam still here then? What was Louis hiding from him? And Zayn.

Harry looked at the boy whose black hair fell partly into his eyes. Was it really possible that he never met him before? Louis and Zayn seemed too close for that to happen.

"Alright, it's getting late," Zayn stood up, brushing chicken bits under the sofa with his socked feet. "Off to bed, everyone."

Harry sat there awkwardly as everyone else got up grumpily. "Um."

Eyes blinked at him.

"Yes?" Zayn tried to smile. Come on, he had a hard day and everyone knew how much Zayn needed sleep.

"Do-do ghosts need to sleep?"

Niall stared at him for a moment before bursting into loud guffaws. Liam kept slapping his back to get him to shut up--"stop, you're being rude!"--but it only made the blonde laughs harder. Zayn stood watching, a broadening grin on his face. God, even Louis smiled, the annoyed eyes giving in to a very slight grin that he managed to suppress almost immediately.

"You're adorable, Harry," Zayn smiled, poking his tongue out from between his teeth. "By the way, the answer is yes. You can just room with the rest of us, we all share a bed."

Harry tried not to let his eyes widen at this. Liam sighed and threw the body (spirit) of a still-laughing Niall over his shoulder and made his way down the hall. Zayn and Louis followed, the former poking at the latter repetitively to try to get him to laugh at something.

With an unsure heart, Harry followed the rest of them into the room. What choice did he have?

The room was extremely spacious, with a queen sized bed right against the back wall. There wasn't much else besides that, save for a dusty bookshelf and a small TV. The ceiling, interestingly enough, was covered in a bunch of fluorescent shapes: stars, moons and galaxies.

Liam caught him staring: "Louis put those up like a year ago. Did a horrible tape job, they've been falling off occasionally ever since."

"Shut up, it would've been so much easier if you just helped," Louis grumbled.

"Because you can't reach the ceiling even standing on the bed?" Zayn added helpfully. He received a glower in return.

"I was this close to getting stabbed by a moon once," Niall complained. "Add more fucking tape for God's sake."

"It's not like your life is in danger," Louis rolled his eyes. 

Seemingly exhausted, Louis and Zayn the proceeded to plop down straight onto the bed. With their limbs splayed over the sheets, their bodies immediately became a united tangle.

Harry frowned in puzzlement. "How are we all going to--"

He was cut off when Niall, with a great whooping laugh, jumped and landed right on top of the duo.

Harry's mouth hung open obscenely.

Niall had passed partially -though- them. His leg was across Louis' chest, before passing right -through- Zayn's torso to extend out the foot of the bed. His leg seemed to stop with Louis body and then continued out the other end. It was the most freakish thing Harry had seen all day. Which was more than the average person.

Liam sighed, as if used to these antics, and clambered in next to Niall. His body did the same thing, though there was a faint shimmer whenever his limbs met one of the other bodies.

"Hop in," Niall said cheerfully. "It's fun."

"You're so cold Liam," Zayn whined from his small space on the bed. "'re making the inside of my stomach freeze."

"I'm an Angel, Zayn," Liam seemed to have had this conversation a million times beforehand. Which was probably true.

"Then you should be hot but I don't see that happening," Louis growled. "Now shut up, both of you, and sleep."

"Hurry up, Harry."

Harry made his way quickly to the edge of the bed and nestled in softly, digging his body into the small space next to Zayn. His head was practically in Zayn's chest and his hand lay on an arm-Louis'?

"'s crowded," he commented quietly. Muffled laughter was heard.

"Goodnight lads," Liam said, before reaching out an arm to flick the light off.

They lay there, a tangle of sweaty limbs. Harry couldn't help but smile faintly to himself. Zayn was wrong. There was something almost ethereal about the way the bodies pressed against him seemed to comfort him, warmth seeping through and pounding in his frozen veins. In that moment, he forgot he was a cold spirit. Harry closed his eyes, praying he would wake up to this tomorrow morning instead of another empty box and an empty heart. Concentrating on the comfort radiating to him in all directions, Harry matched his breaths to the snores around him and drifted off to sleep.

But even so, he couldn't help but notice the tensed muscles of the arm laying under his hand. It didn't relax, even when Harry finally gave in to his exhaustion.

* * *

Harry's eyes flew open as an excruciating pain ripped through his abdomen, searing its way to his chest. He outright gasped at the intensity of it and sprang up into a sitting position on the bed, grabbing at his chest.

Whipping his head around, he realized with an agonized frenzy that his limbs no longer ghosted through other bodies. He realized with a passing thought that having that as his first thought was indicative of how weird his situation had become.

Zayn was the only one with him in the bed. He was clearly awake, eyes bright from the trickles of moonlight through the window.

"What's happening?" Harry whimpered, barely holding back a shriek as another wave of pain hit him.

"Don't...know..." The other boy seemed even more overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught. His hair, unstyled, stuck to his face in a sheen of sweat. Tears practically pooled in his eyes.

Harry began to hyperventilate. "Zayn, it's alright," he grit his teeth, trying to mask his own ordeal in an attempt to comfort the other boy. "I--"

"Harry," Zayn's voice was hoarse. "Do you....feel it?"

And Harry suddenly realized. Ever since he woke up, there had been a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

_Follow._

The command was voiceless, if that made sense. It seemed like an instinct to Harry, to go out of the apartment into the street, in the direction his intuition was leading him to.

And the longer he resisted that urge to go, the more intense the pain seemed to become.

"Yeah," Harry nodded to Zayn. He stared at the wooden door of the bedroom. "Zayn, let's go."

"I can't," the voice seemed tortured and in pain, a far cry from the calm and collected boy from this afternoon. "Harry, just go."

Harry saw the obvious pain in Zayn's face and how he wrapped himself into a tight ball, shivering pitifully. "Let's go together," he insisted.

"Harry, I really can't, it hurts!" Zayn ended in a scream as the agony intensified.

Harry practically leapt out of bed, ignoring the searing feeling in him as he ran out of the apartment and onto the street.

The second the cold night air hit him, the relief was instantaneous. The curtains of freezing air seemed to make the pain fade down to a dull pounding. Looking back up at the window, he hoped it was the same for Zayn.

Harry looked around his spot on the corner of the intersection, cars whizzing past him and city lights sparkling. Where am I supposed to go? he wondered faintly.

He felt a small tugging and realized with a start that he knew. It was pure instinct, the way his feet seemed to move by themselves on the smooth pavement. Around ten minutes later, he rounded the corner of the dark street and heard the voices.

"How the fuck could you do that to me?" the man hissed, betrayal laced deep into his voice. "You know what he fucking did, what are you trying to do?"

Harry had been pressed against the wall, making sure to stay out of sight. Until he looked at his arms and remembered he was a ghost.

Slowly, he poked his head out around the edge of the 7/11 at the corner. There, under the flickering sign and framed by passing car headlights, was Louis, Niall and Liam.

Eyes widening, Harry lurched back onto the other side and tried to calm his breathing. No one rounded the corner to him so apparently they hadn't noticed.

"Calm down Louis," Liam growled slightly. A low grumble sounded from the back of his throat and Harry realized with a start that the three boys out here must be experiencing the agonizing onslaught too.

"Do you know what it was like to walk in and just find him there with Zayn?" Louis' heavy breathing was evident in his voice. "I thought everything would be fucking ruined, just when it started getting better. And now I find out that it's entirely your fault, you were the one that made him come to us in the first place!" He ended in a rage, chest heaving in both anger and pain. He was much shorter than Liam but his words rang like gunshots, clear as hell to Harry.

He was talking about him, Harry realized. Then the voiced command that he heard back at the cemetery...that was Liam's voice. So he really was an Angel. As for why Liam wanted him to re-unite with Louis, his ex boyfriend and his roommate, Harry was too caught up in the moment to wonder.

A second realization hit him. Louis completely and utterly hated him. It didn't matter that he agreed to let Harry into the apartment, something happened between the two of them that ruined their relationship. This profound certainty seemed to weigh down in him, sinking like a rusted anchor.

"Give him a chance," Niall's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "You don't know what it's like to be dead, to just wake up in your coffin like that to find that practically no one else can see you."

"I don't care Niall," Louis ground his teeth. "For you, I understand and I love you, don't worry. But him, he fucking deserves it with all he did."

"Louis--" Liam tried.

"No!" Harry could hear tears brimming on the edge of the feather haired boy's voice.

"Louis, listen!" Niall's voice took on a serious tone. "He's dead. Dead, Louis, there's no going back, it's all over for him! It doesn't matter what he did before, right now he's just a wandering amnesiac! If Liam was urged to lead him to us then there's something we all have to do together before he can leave."

"Louis, please," Liam said gently.

There was a long silence. Harry couldn't take it anymore. Hugging himself tightly, he drifted away without waiting for Louis' response.

By the time he got back to the apartment, Zayn had fallen asleep, his face serene and peaceful, free from the previous ordeal. Harry laid down slowly next to him, settling back into the covers. The other three hadn't returned yet. 

_"He fucking deserves it with all he did."_

Louis' words bit into him, scraping away at the scattered remains if his heart. This was the first moment Harry truly despised his amnesia ever since waking up dead. He reached into his mind to try to find the person he was before, to learn his personality and what these four boys really meant to him when he was alive. 

But all he got was a wall of hazy smoke, misting over him in soft curtains until his head hurt from trying to remember. 

_"I can only wait for the final amnesia, the one that can erase an entire life."_

Harry moved his lips silently to the quote that just materialized to him.

Utterly and completely, he had lost his previous life.

But then again, given everything he'd heard about himself so far, that might not be such a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stuff is revealed. Tell me what you think :) Comments and kudos are always appreciated
> 
> quote at the very end is from Oliver Sacks's The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) comments and kudos are greatly appreciated


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